


Oblivion

by Semyazza



Series: What could have happened, but did not happen [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Freeform, Gen, Tags give too much information
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-15
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-15 20:36:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1318375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Semyazza/pseuds/Semyazza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part one of a new series, with independent snippets of 'what could have happened'.</p><p>This one goes for episode 1.01 Pilot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oblivion

**Author's Note:**

> Conductive criticism is more than welcome.  
> This is my first fanfiction, and also the first time I've written in English. Please let me know if there are any mistakes and what would you change.

_1983_

 

It was already dark outside. It was time for children to go to bed. Mary Winchester smiled kindly at his son. “Come on,” she said, “let’s say good night to your brother.”

And Dean leant over the side of the little crib and kissed the baby on the forehead. The skin was tender and soft, all innocence.

“’Night, Sam.”

“Good night, love.” Mary kissed the kid’s forehead, too. Over the doorway, John greeted them, and scooped Dean happily, teasing the four-year-old kid (“You think Sammy’s ready to toss around a football yet?”).

There were laughs, and then, “Sweet dreams, Sam,” and they left, flipping off the lights.

It was already dark inside, too.

 

* * *

 

 

A few hours later, lights would flicker on the baby monitor, just next to a photo of the married pair.

Strange sounds would come through it. Mary would stir and turn on the light on the nightstand. Would get up, seeing she was alone. Would walk down the hall to Sam’s nursery, would find John standing over Sam’s crib, would head back down —lights flickering. Would see… John, asleep while watching TV. Would rush back upstairs.

“Sammy! Sammy!”

A scream.

John burst through the closed door, room empty and quiet except for Sam, awake in his crib. A glance, a few words, and then blood dripping slowly from Mary sprawled across the ceiling, struggling to breathe. “No! Mary!”

Flames, fire.

(It wasn’t dark inside anymore)

John took Sam and rushed out. Dean was there, a confused and worried expression on his young features. “Daddy!”

“Take your brother outside as fast as you can and don’t look back! Now, Dean, go!”

It was an order, maybe the first one. The desperate plea, the eyes looking at him, but not at him —through him. There wasn’t enough time.

Dean turned and ran. John turned back to the nursery. The entire room was on fire. The entire house was on fire.

Within moments, Dean couldn’t run anymore. Sam was just too heavy. John showed up behind them. “Run! Run!”

He took his father’s hand, still holding his little brother, who was now crying, completely awake. An explosion. There was a scream, was it his? Was it his dad’s? Both?

Just like that, Sam fell from his arms. They were still running. He let go of his father hand.

“Sammy!”

“Now, Dean!”

John’s arms were stronger than his own, and he could do nothing but be carried away, while every nerve of his little body begged him to stay. He was babbling nonstop. “It’s Sam, Sammy, brother”.

They made it, they were out. A orange light bathed the night. It was warm outside. But all they felt was cold. They were crying, but they didn’t feel the tears.

“Stay back. You have to stay back”, said an officer. There were firefighters working, but Dean couldn’t see them anymore. His vision was blurred by red and yellow, and something like a scream. He saw his father trying to go back to the house.

“Let me in! My son is in there!”

They didn’t let him in.

 

* * *

 

 

Years later, Dean would pin someone to the floor.

“That’s ‘cause you’re out of practice”, he’d say. The other one would try to turn tables, but would struggle helplessly under him. Then they would talk.

“Dad hasn’t been home in a few days.”

“So he’s working overtime on a Miller Time shift. He’ll stumble back in sooner or later.”

“Dad’s on a hunting trip. And he hasn’t been home in a few days.”

His brother would exchange a look with his girlfriend.

“Pat, excuse us. We have to go outside.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey. Everything’s going to be okay. I will be back in time, I promise.”

 

* * *

 

 

And then they were in the Impala, parked in front of a gas station.

“I swear, man, you’ve gotta update your cassette tape collection.”

“Why?”

“Well, for one, they’re cassette tapes. And two: Black Sabbath? Motorhead? Metallica? It’s the greatest hits of mullet rock.”

“Well, house rules, Addy. Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole.”

“You know, Addy is a chubby twelve-year old. It’s Adam, okay?”

“Sorry, I can’t hear you, the music’s too loud.”

 

* * *

 

 

When they got back on Monday, there was no other fire.

But when Adam climbed up the stairs, there was another guy in the room, kissing Patricia passionately.

So he left.

The Impala was waiting for him outside, mocking. 


End file.
